


it's (down) to the delegates

by hambamthankyoumaam (Random13245)



Series: The Selection AU [5]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: Aromantic Martha Laurens Ramsay, Elite AU, F/F, F/M, Inconsistent uploads, M/M, Multi, Murphy's Law, Prince John Laurens, Selection AU, caste system, murphy's law basically applies to everything I write, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-04 09:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10273895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random13245/pseuds/hambamthankyoumaam
Summary: "“Mister Alexander.” The television host... leaned forward with a microphone in hand. “How does it feel to be one of the Elite?”“Uh.” Alexander glanced at the camera... “It's overwhelming.” He said, vastly under-exaggerating the truth. He didn't want to show weakness; the whole ordeal had become more of a game of hunt, and he didn't want to be the fresh meat laid out for the lions. “But I'm excited.” He gave the camera a practiced, tempered smile.“Fantastic! Can't wait to see more of you guys’ lives here in the palace.” He rose and the cameraman went with him, focusing on someone else."The Selection is down to the final ten- the Elite. The stakes are high and the question is raised: who will be the next prince-consort?





	1. Public Appearances

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh!!! We're here!!! Part two! This is thrilling honestly, I'm so happy this AU has been so well received.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing & Cameras & Popularity

“I've had enough political talk,” John said as he slid his arm into Alexander’s. He'd swooped by, slightly spur of the moment, to take Alexander away for a walk after a stressful talk with his father. “Distract me.” He commanded.

Alexander laughed, “And how do I go about that?” He said, maybe flirting just a bit. He was an Elite after all, flirting was part of this… _game_.

“Hmm.” He pretended to think about it for a moment, then swooped Alexander around a corner, and leaned down close.

They'd kissed once before, but it was messy. They were out again on the roof- Alexander had come to enjoy the setting- and John had unexpectedly gone in for a kiss. It wasn't that Alexander didn't want to kiss him- he _did_ \- but it was so out of nowhere that they're lips slipped and teeth bumped. Alexander had made the statement that they would try again later, and he supposed now was later.

This kiss was a lot better than the first time- Alexander felt a pang as he realized John had probably been kissing the other Elite. He pushed the thought out of his mind and distracted himself by pulling John closer to him.

They withdrew, and Alexander muttered, “Distracted yet?”

“Mm,” John said, pretending again that he had to think about it, “no.”

Alexander laughed, and John felt his heart skip at the sound. “How about we head up to the roof?”

“Wonderful idea.”

* * *

 “Mister Alexander.” The television host, George Washington, leaned forward with a microphone in hand. “How does it feel to be one of the Elite?”

“Uh.” Alexander glanced at the camera, watching him, broadcasting his every movement live to the entire country. “It's overwhelming.” He said, vastly under-exaggerating the truth. He didn't want to show weakness; the whole ordeal had become more of a game of hunt, and he didn't want to be the fresh meat laid out for the lions. “But I'm excited.” He gave the camera a practiced, tempered smile.

George smiled, too. “Fantastic! Can't wait to see more of you guys’ lives here in the palace.” He rose and the cameraman went with him, focusing on someone else.

This had become a more frequent happening; live broadcasts of the parlor as the Selected- now the Elite- went about their lives. The country was becoming even more interested in the personal time of the Selected now that they'd been whittled down to an amount where favorites could be easily picked.

The scrutiny increased as well, especially against himself and Maria, for being Sixes. They were the lowest two remaining, with next up being the Fours, Mister John André and Sybil. And for what it was worth, Sybil did sacrifice some of her public image by being their friend in the first place.

Alexander hated every moment of it. He didn't mind so much now being in the public eye- he learned, in fact, he had an affinity for public speaking- but rather having to restrict himself when he was. He wanted to spit fire whenever the interviewers asked him about the current political climate and how a new queen or prince-consort could affect that. He wanted to talk, to be heard, but Jacklyn told them all to bite their tongues, and she'd made his life enough of a hell as it was. He ground his teeth anytime he was asked for an opinion, and fought back his every instinct to shoot off at the mouth.

Eventually, he was either going to severe his tongue from biting so hard, or explode on camera. Neither seemed like a good outcome.

He sat down on the couch that he and Maria had practically claimed- an unspoken rule of sorts, everyone had their own space in the parlor. They'd claimed the couch in the far right corner. They being himself, Maria, and Sybil.

He spotted Maria, dodging the cameras, trying to make her way to their corner.

“I can't take this.” She muttered when she finally reached him and sat, allowing a moment for her too-big skirt to settle with her. “My family called.”

“Oh.”

“They want me to- what were my mother’s exact words?- ‘give up this pipe dream of royalty’ and come home to my ‘loving, awaiting fiancé.’” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, shit.” He sat up a bit straighter. “What are you going to do?”

“Avoid.” She smiled serenely, but it was tense. “Avoid going home for as long as I can. Prince John is quite kind, I hope he can do that for me.”

Alexander frowned, trying to glean something of significance from her attitude.. “You don't like men.” He said, a mix between a question and a statement.

She looked at him quickly, snapping her head to face him. Her smile was even more tense now. “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” she visibly relaxed, “I mean, it's taken me how long to figure out?” He paused, seriously thinking about how long the Selection had been going. “Four months. Not that it matters-”

“It does. To my parents.” She said quietly. He nodded as if he understood, but he didn't.

He pretended not to notice how she ever so slightly lit up and postured as Sybil approached. In her hand she carried a some gossip magazine Alexander had seen floating around before.

She set it down in Alexander’s lap with a flourish as she sat in between him and Maria.

“What's this?” He picked it up, examining the cover and the titles.

“There's a poll inside,” Sybil said unhelpfully, “talking about who's the public favorite.” She elaborated upon seeing Alexander’s still confused expression.

“Oh.” He opened up the magazine and scoured the table of contents until he found the page he was looking for- the polls.

Unsurprisingly, there at the top was Mister Francis, with a little blurb about him:

“ _Mister Francis Kinloch has stolen the public’s heart with his wit and charms, and it seems he's stolen the Prince’s too!_ ”

Alexander wanted to puke.

But the truly shocking part came at who was in second: himself.

“ _Mister Alexander Hamilton has never ceased to surprise! A Six by trade, he’s popular with the common person._ ”

Oh. He'd never considered his lower caste status as something that made him relatable to the public. He'd figured the Twos would get first bidding at the public’s love because they were already known by namesake, but as it turned out, being a nobody paid off.


	2. No Lo Quiero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mattie & Calling Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: IT WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED IF YOU ALL WENT AND READ THE EXTRA ONE SHOT PIECES I'VE ADDED TO THIS SERIES, IT WILL ALSO GIVE YOU A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF THE CHARACTERS <3
> 
> So if I finally threw together a semi acceptable chapter two, so here

“I'm sorry, this is stupid, I'm being stupid.”

“No, no.” John insisted. “Please go on.”

“I just…” Miss Martha, whom he was walking with, sighed, “I like you.” She sighed again, sounding more frustrated this time, “This is dumb.”

“Martha…” John began hesitantly, unsure how to approach the situation.

“Mattie.” She corrected. She had told him prior she preferred the nickname, and he'd forgotten, again.

“Mattie,” he corrected himself, running a hand through his loose curls, “I… don't know what to tell you.”

“I know. You don't like girls like that, and I know that, and that's why this is dumb.” She closed her eyes and let out another frustrated sigh.

He took the moment to look at her. She was pretty, he supposed, objectively. But she didn't strike him the way someone like Kinloch or Alexander did. She had long, mousy brown hair that curled around her shoulders, framing her face in an almost angelic way, and caramel skin. He felt distinctly like he was looking at a pretty flower, or painting. She was beautiful, but that was it.

“I think I'd like to go home, if that's okay.” She said, sounding resigned and tired.

John felt a bit of shock at the statement, but nodded slowly. “Of course.” He said. He had no intention of holding anyone here who didn't want to be, so he let her go.

* * *

 “Mattie left.” Sybil said, sounding a bit sad. “She just decided she'd had enough, I guess.”

“Mattie?” Alexander quirked an eyebrow, not recalling anyone with that name.

“Miss Martha.” Sybil amended. “We were kind of friends.” She shrugged. “She said she'd keep in touch but just… wanted to go.”

“So… nine?”

“Nine.” She nodded resolutely. “It's… scary.” She confided.

“Yeah, I understand.” Alexander nodded, feeling and knowing her fear.

“I'm not even in the _real_ Selection, ya know? And it's still terrifying.” She said. Alexander was formulating his response when he found himself interrupted.

“Excuse me,” the Prince entered the parlor, looking authoritative, although the remaining Elite knew him better, “I have an announcement. Since we have reached a low enough number, it has come time for me to meet your families.”

Alexander saw Maria, across the room talking to Mister Kinloch, tense up. He did too.

Her family was not pleased with the current arrangement and would undoubtedly do everything they could to persuade her back.

Alexander, on the other hand, had no family to begin with. His mother had died when when we was only 12- maybe 13, he thought, growing up desolate didn't leave any time to keep track of birthdays as well as upper castes, he didn't have the privilege. His ‘father’- or rather the man who'd stuck around for a few years before dumping them- had left just a few years prior.

“It is a traditional and quintessential part of the Selection process. Please call home to any available relatives and let them know they are welcome to stay starting next Monday.” The Prince sounded like he was reading off a script. “We will be happy to transport them from their dwellings to the Palace and back.” He smiled, but it was tempered. “You may also bring any close friends if you wish.”

Alexander furrowed his brow, wondering if Eliza would be able to come. He didn't want to be the only Elite without someone there.

He caught Maria’s eye and beckoned her to him. She rushed over, looking flushed.

“I'm scared, Alexander.” She said almost immediately. “You two are the only people I've told about my family.” She fidgeted with one layer of skirts on her dress.

“It'll be okay.” Sybil said with confidence that was contagious. “Do you have any friends you can invite?” She asked.

“I…” Maria seemed to think about this for a moment. “Yes. His name’s, uh, Peter.”

“Call Peter, then. Don't even mention to your family there was an opportunity to visit.” Sybil concluded.

“They're going to televise it.” Alexander pointed out, cynically.

“Tell them it was friends only.” Sybil solved the problem easily. “But only tell them if they ask.”

“What would I do without your, Syb?” Maria said, throwing her arms around Sybil dramatically. Sybil in response heaved a sarcastic sigh and begrudgingly wrapped her arms around Maria in return.

* * *

 “You're an idiot.”

“I'm- what?” Alexander started, taking a moment to process Eliza’s sudden sharp insult.

“Of course I’ll come visit, you dumbass! Could I bring my sisters along, too? They'd kill me if they knew I snubbed them the opportunity to visit the Palace.” Eliza sounded excited, much to Alexander's relief.

“Yes! Yeah, the more the merrier. It's… supposed to be family, ya know?” Alexander said, feeling awkward even on the phone. He could almost feel Eliza's gaze, measuring him.

“Alexander.”

“What?”

“I am your family.”

“Thank you, Liz. I don't deserve you.” Alexander sighed, feeling his entire body loosen. He didn't even realize how tense he'd been, but now he relaxed.

“You're so stupid sometimes, Alexander.” Eliza continued. “To even think I don't consider you family, and my sisters do, too.” There was a pause, and then she shifted the topic. “So, how are you adjusting to the palace?”

“Uh,” he fumbled the conversation, “fine, I guess.”

“Have you given any thought to the idea of being the prince-consort?” She spoke casually, as if it wasn't a world-shattering question.

His immediate, gut-reaction was, _No lo quiero,_ but he gave it a bit more thought. “I don't think I'm suited for it, Liz. I'll be home soon, at least.”

“Don't be so sure, Mister Alexander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _no lo quiero_ \- i don't want it


	3. Meeting The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Differences & Family Parlour & Setting Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gently sets chapter down and gives it a little pat pat
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The palace was _loud_. It reminded John of the commotion raised by the arrival of the Selected. Except now it wasn't thirty-six relative strangers with little else to say than polite introductions. It was boisterous, talkative families, who knew at least one other person there, and who had a lot to say. The wide range of types of families contributed to the different types of noise.

Miss Sybil’s family filled their hall with laughter and warmth.

Mister Thomas’s family was much more reserved, but eager to attract camera attention. The sounds of shuttering camera filled their hall.

Miss Kitty’s family was large and provided the unique sound of small children running around.

Mister Aaron’s family was probably the quietest, no camera shutters nor words.

Mister Kinloch’s family was friendly, they contributed the sound of sibling infighting.

Miss Peggy’s family consisted only of her and her mother, and although they were small, they were a mighty force.

Miss Maria had simply brought one friend, a young man, possibly her brother. They bickered like siblings.

Mister Alexander’s family had to be the most unique; just three women, none of which seemingly related to him. And they were _loud_. They fussed over Alexander- licking their hands and trying to smooth down Alexander’s hair like mothers. They swatted Alexander’s arms, almost tag-teaming to remind him when he was being an idiot.

John would be lying to himself and everyone else if he said he didn't enjoy watching them interact. He liked seeing all the families, but the more unique ones, like Alexander’s, were the most fun to watch.

“Alexander, I _swear_ -”

“Liz, please-”

“Shush!”

* * *

 The parlour was loud, filled to the brim and bustling with families. The three Schuyler sisters were flurrying around, being the socialites that they are, Angelica taking the spotlight with Eliza and Peggy tailing along.

They were wearing extravagant gowns. Angelica was in a warm pink silk dress with an absolutely insane amount of tulle. Eliza wore her traditional light teal-blue dress that had much has tulle than Angelica’s. And Peggy, of course, was decked out in sunflower yellow, glowing like a sun.

Alexander sat with Maria and her friend, Peter, and simply people-watched together. They observed as Angelica swept the room, gracefully introducing herself and her sisters to every family member, taking full advantage of the Schuyler name. He noticed Mister Aaron’s family was the only one not socializing to some extent. They were sitting together, quietly chatting to each other. Meanwhile Miss Kitty came scittering by, ‘chasing’ after a young sibling. In reality, she was clearly letting the smaller kid win their little race. It was endearing to see.

Even the Prince’s family, though not the Prince himself, joined the mass. Alexander could recognize them only because the Laurens siblings looked so similar. There was Princess Martha, who looked like a softer cut of her older brother. The same dark, curly hair and freckles, but a softer jaw line and less pronounced nose. She was holding the hands of two smaller kids- Mary Eleanor, the youngest, and Harry. There was only one Laurens sibling missing aside from the Prince, and that was James. John had mentioned how sickly James was, and Alexander assumed that was the cause of his absence.

Amidst the chaos, Alexander noticed the door to the parlour open and close slowly and carefully. Standing in front of the door was none other than the Prince. From the door, John watched the chaos falling around him with a fond look on his face. Alexander gave into the temptation to approach him.

“Hello, Your Highness.” He greeted, causing John to laugh a bit, as they had long since abandoned such formalities.

“Hello, Mister Alexander.” John smiled slightly, his eyes still dancing around the room examining the crowd. “Where are your, ah, sisters?”

Alexander burst out laughing. “No- no, they're not my sisters. Just friends, but they are sisters to each other. And they're somewhere socializing and charming everyone they can.”

“Is your Eliza one of those ladies?” John said, quirking a brow.

“Yes, she's the middle sister. Angelica is the eldest one, and Peggy is the baby sister. I believe that's Eliza over there,” he pointed, “talking to Maria and Sybil.”

“They, ah, are sitting quite close.” John pointed out, not sure how to word it.

Alexander laughed, loudly, and spoke, “Eliza’s been dying to get her hands on the women of the Selection.” John chuckled. “Guess she couldn't decide.” That caused John's chuckle to grow into a full laugh.

After his laughter ceased, he leaned down a bit closer to Alexander and whispered, sending shivers down Alexander’s spine, “Roof tonight?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Alexander said, stumbling a bit and having to correct his own grammar. He felt flushed, almost silly, and shifted his weight around.

Technically, the country had a curfew, and by the time they would meet on the roof, it would be way past curfew, but it wouldn't be the first time.

As a young teen having just arrived in this foreign land, Alexander had broken many minor laws. The curfew had always been more of a suggestion to him than an actual law. He could still remember sneaking out with Eliza, getting into trouble. They'd kissed once during their post-curfew trip, and afterwards Eliza had loudly announced that she was now certain she didn't like boys. Alexander laughed out loud at this memory, causing a look from John.

“Nothing, just a funny story, tell you later.” He said casually.


	4. Constructive Criticism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Critics & Shovel Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter can best be summarized as a mix of me screaming and my earlier comment about the Schuyler sisters talking to john "oh man yeah he's gonna get grilled extra crispy real soon"
> 
> Now is real soon. It's time to grill him.

“Alexander this room is a disaster. You have butlers and it's still filthy.” Angelica said with a disapproving frown.

“Yeah,” he began to defend himself, though it was useless against Angelica, “‘cos I don't like asking them to do things.” He finished lamely. Angelica sighed. “Anyway, you guys can't stay long, I have a date tonight.”

“Speaking of, we should probably talk to this Prince John.” Angelica said, as if she didn't know who John was in the first place, making her sisters giggle.

“Yeah, we have to make sure he's good enough for our Alexander.” Eliza quipped.

“Please don't hurt him.”

* * *

 “So,” One of the girls who was here for Alexander sat down in front of John in the parlor, the other two taking places on either side of her. Somehow, they made the action of just sitting down seem vaguely threatening. “How many times have you heard the classic shovel talk since the families arrived?”

John laughed, feeling a bit of tension release. “A good amount.” Miss Sybil’s baby sister had threatened to hit him, the Kinlochs gave him a few stern words, and the Jeffersons made empty threats to ‘ruin’ him.

“Well, this won't be your average shovel talk.” She promised with a smile. Something about that wasn't so reassuring. “I'm Angelica Schuyler,” She held out her hand, “this is Eliza,” she pointed to the sister on her right, “and this is Peggy. We’re Alexander’s friends.”

“More like mothers.” Peggy giggled.

“True. For all intents and purposes, we are his family.” Angelica agreed. “And,” she turned her gaze back to John, staring daggers into his eyes, he shivered, “I will not hesitate to kill someone to protect family.” Her tone and the look in her eyes said she meant what she was saying.

“Ah…” John frowned, unsure what to say.

Angelica brought her hands calmly down to the table, “Just a reminder.”

“Do you like him?” Peggy burst out, clearly having been holding back for awhile. Her curiosity was practically bubbling over.

John flushed, he could feel his face heating up. “Um,” he stuttered, “yes.” He said, feeling incredibly inarticulate. He wasn't sure what about these three was so frightening, they were definitely a force to be reckoned with, though.

“Yes?” Eliza pressed, smiling ear to ear.

“Yeah, uh…” He searched for the words, “I mean, you know him, he's… bold. I like it.”

Angelica nodded, a short gesture of approval. John sighed a small sigh of relief. “He is.” She said. She leaned forward a bit, closer to John. He shrunk back. “Between you and me, he likes you too.” She smiled but this time it didn't see so threatening.

“He's scared.” Eliza added. “He’ll never admit it, but he's terrified.”

“What of?” John asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

“Well,” Eliza bit her lip, “if you choose him,” she gestured vaguely, “I don't think he wants to be royalty.” She finished, not making a truly coherent sentence, but nonetheless getting her point across.

“Yes, he's… mentioned.” John said vaguely. Really, Alexander hadn't said that directly, but more that he was overwhelmed by the idea. To hear Eliza, his closest friend according to him, say that it went far beyond ‘overwhelmed’… it was upsetting. He tried not to let it show.

“Give him time.” Eliza said with a warm smile. In strong contrast to her sister Angelica, there was nothing threatening about her smile. In fact, her smile was calming. John could see how she balanced out Alexander’s fiery personality. “He's scared now, he was scared when he first came to our city from-” Eliza cut herself off, quickly rephrasing what she was going to say, “-his hometown. But he warms up to things easily.” She said, sounding uneasy herself. John simply nodded. Time. He could do that.

“But,” Angelica interjected, “if I ever find out that you hurt him-”

“Angelica.” Eliza said, her voice tempered and warning. She smiled tightly at her sister, effectively stopping that line of interrogation.

“So,” Peggy hopped back in, “what are your intentions with our dear Alexander?” Her voice carried a tiny bit of sarcasm, the question was joking, but the idea behind it was serious.

“Uh.” John mumbled.

“You say you like him. What exactly does that mean, hm?” Eliza now took a threatening position, leaning over the table just slightly.

“Um-”

“Do you love him?” Peggy smiled deviously, somehow striking the balance between her sisters’ threatening and warm smiles.

“Peggy!” Eliza quickly whacked her sister on the arm.

“Yes.” John suddenly found himself spitting the word out.

“Ha!” Peggy exclaimed triumphantly, pointing a finger at Eliza to rub in her victory.

“I wouldn't say that to him.” Eliza warned with a slight frown. “He's… has he talked at all about his childhood?”

“Um, a bit.” John shrugged. “He mentioned that he didn't have any living family…”

“I'll let him fill in the rest but… love is a touchy subject with him. He's already scared, that would just…” she made a flippant gesture with her hand, “terrify him.”

John nodded, frowning still. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, he thought for sure the trio could smell his nervousness. Had he really just admitted-? He tried to shake it off, but he hadn't even seen it coming from his own mouth.

And on top of that, he couldn't inform Alexander of this revelation. He didn't want to scare Alexander away. The only person he felt the same way about was-

Kinloch.

Dammit, there he goes again. Comparing them, when it wasn't fair by any means to do so. He couldn't help it, though. They both weighed in his heart heavily.

“You still with us?” Peggy passed a hand in front of his face, and he snapped out of his trance.

“Um, yes.” He muttered.

“You have a date with him tonight?” Angelica asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. Treat him right.” Angelica nodded.

“Be honest, who's his strongest competition?” Eliza asked quietly, sounding as though she wasn't sure if she actually wanted the answer.

John was silent for a few moments, counting the seconds until he said, “Kinloch.”

Eliza glanced over at Kinloch. John could see it in her eyes, she was comparing them, trying to find the similar trait they shared that made them both so dear to John. But there was no way anyone could see their similarities just by looking at them. Looking at them didn't show their senses of humor and how well they clicked with John. It didn't show the way they each smiled, Alexander’s a little crooked and Kinloch’s a little too wide for his face, both perfectly imperfect. He sighed. He could almost feel his emotions being swirled around like a blender.


	5. Comparing Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhoods & Families

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uploading twice in two days? Is this some bizarre alternate universe where I have motivation and time to write?
> 
> I'm also headed back and adding summaries to all my chapters because why not.

“How badly did they grill you?” Alexander asked as he looped his arm with John’s to walk to the roof.

“Not too badly.” John lied through his teeth. It had only been about an hour since they'd cornered him and he was still thinking about it. The threats weren't even the scariest part of the conversation, it was the emotions that were dredged up.

“Somehow I doubt that.” Alexander said with a slight laugh. His laughter was infectious, and John was still filled to the brim with nerves, so he soon found himself laughing too.

“Yeah, okay,” he relented, “it was rough.”

Alexander nodded, more at ease with that answer. “Sounds about right. They…” he searched for the words he wanted, “they're quite a team, the three of them.”

“They called themselves your moms.”

Alexander burst out laughing, sudden and loud. “They did, did they?” He smiled, that ever so slightly crooked smile, “Well… to be fair, they kind of are.”

They reached the rooftop and settled in at the table closest to the edge. Alexander had mentioned before he liked the view.

“What… what happened to your real mom?” John asked quietly. He immediately regretted it as Alexander stiffened, John could almost see him shutting him out.

“What happened to yours?” He fired back. John flushed with color. The words were sharp and they cut deep.

“She, um…”

“Got sick and died.” Alexander finished, lacking all sense of tact or grace. Though at first it seemed he was devoid of emotion, just under his words there was a pained sound.

“...Yeah…” John squirmed, uncomfortable with having the conversation turned this way, though he supposed it was fair karma.

“Yeah.” Alexander echoed sharply. “I…” he sighed, “I grew up in the Caribbean. Really poor, but we were happy. We both,” he coughed, “we both got sick. Obviously I got better, but she…” his voice cracked. John wasn't sure if he should comfort him, or how he should go about that, or if he should simply ask him to stop if he didn't want to talk about this. He stayed silent and sat still.

Alexander swallowed. “I was then tossed around from family member to family member. The first, a cousin… I came home one to day see him-” he choked on the words for a moment, “He had hung himself.” John put a hand on Alexander’s shoulder, intending it to be a sign that he should probably stop, but Alexander just leaned into it and continued talking. “About two years later, while I was living with my old landlord, a hurricane hit. Absolutely destroyed everything. It was horrible, I…” another crack, “I can't…” Alexander slumped down slightly and John tightened his grip on Alexander’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

“It's fine, you don't have to-”

“No, no.” Alexander sat up, straightening his posture, “It's almost done. I can do this.” He said the last part more to himself than to John. “I wrote about it, about the hurricane and all the…” he made a wide gesture with his hand, “and the people decided I was too smart to stay stuck there… Everyone contributed money to get me here. So… here I am.” He finished, stifling a slight sob.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, you didn't have to-”

“No. Don't, okay?” Alexander took a deep breath. “I trust you.”

John nodded, feeling his heart in his throat. For the second time that day he swore his heart was pounding so loudly that other people could hear it.

It was late, so he simply walked Alexander back to his room and kissed him goodnight.

* * *

 “What was your childhood like?”

Kinloch laughed, “Pretty normal.”

“What do you mean?” John frowned slightly.

“Well, I was the middle child, you already know that,” he nodded, “my mom cooked dinners and herded us kids. My dad would throw us in the air and let us pretend we were flying, my mom would freak out every time he did it.” Kinloch laughed at the memory. John felt mesmerized. “My siblings tormented me, I tormented them. Pretty typical.”

John nodded, “Sounds nice.” He wondered what it would have been like to have a normal childhood. To not be bombarded with work from the moment he could walk. To not be _hit_ -

“I suppose.” Kinloch tilted his head slightly. “I guess you don't really know what a normal childhood exactly is, do you?”

As always, Kinloch could read him like a book, and he had his fingers on the pages. “Yeah, that's why I asked.” John smiled. “It might seem… normal, or boring to you, but to me it's completely foreign.”

Kinloch nodded, not really understanding but trying to at least look as if he did. “What was yours like?”

John was thrown off by the question. He picked pieces of his childhood apart, censoring and rewriting some of it. “My siblings played a lot, I was immediately placed under stress and not allowed to play with them very often.”

“I can see why my childhood would seem ideal then. What had you thinking about it?” Kinloch asked.

“Huh?”

“It was kind of out of nowhere, what made you think about it and think to ask?” He elaborated the question.

Oh. John wasn't sure how to maneuver this. He didn't want to tell Kinloch it was because he'd met Alexander’s family and then asked Alexander about the same topic.

“Martha and I were talking.” He lied through his teeth for the second time in under twenty-four hours. His stomach twisted; he didn't like lying.

“About your childhood?”

“Yeah. She said something about how I wasn't able to play with my siblings often enough, said she, ah,” he was making this up as he went so he had to pause, “missed me.”

“That's sweet. You're really close to Martha, aren't you?” John could practically hear the pages of the book that was his personality being casually turned and scanned over.

“Yes. She's closest in age to me. The others _are_ quite young.”

John realized then that he didn't really know his youngest siblings, Mary Eleanor and Harry. He knew what they looked like, and that they liked to play tag and hide-and-go-seek in the halls of the palace, but other than that, he didn't know anything. He could answer any question about Martha or Jemmy. He decided he'd have to fix this gap.

In the meantime, though, he allowed himself to simply enjoy Kinloch’s company.


	6. Much Needed Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sisterly Advice #1 & Sisterly Advice #2 & Family Resemblence & Stress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is messy and I'm not really sorry. I managed to get a whole chapter written in a decent amount of time and thas good enough for me.

“You just vomited your past all over him?” Angelica asked brashly after Alexander returned to his room. He'd asked for her to meet him there, not wanting to face Eliza right then.

“Yep.” Alexander sighed. “Fuck.”

“Like, everything?”

“Everything.”

“Jesus, Alexander.”

“Yep.” He repeated.

“How'd he react?”

“He was… quiet. I think he wanted me to stop- not because he didn't wanna hear it, but because I was so upset talking about it. He apologized for asking- I should've apologized for what I said about his mom.”

“What exactly did you say?”

“He- He asked about what happened to my mom, so I asked what happened to his. I cut him off a bit and finished his sentence and just said, ‘got sick and died.’”

“Alexander,” He could feel the lecture coming, “that's… Jesus, okay, that’s not wrong, but that's uncalled for. How'd he respond to that?”

“He just said ‘yeah’ and then I just started spewing it out. I kind of didn't want to deal with what I'd just said so I just… didn't stop talking.”

“Eliza’s going to say that you need to talk to him. Apologize for what you said.” Angelica said, reverting to the tactic that always worked: what would Eliza say?

“Of course she will,” he sighed, leaning his head back onto the headboard of his bed, “that's the right thing to do, Eliza always knows that.” He wasn't even being sarcastic; Eliza always knew how to handle social situations like a queen. Her interpersonal skills were her strongest trait.

Angelica’s laugh was lighter than expected. “Yes, she does. Seriously, though. Apologize.”

“I will, I will.” Alexander rolled his eyes at her nagging, but still took her instructions to heart. He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking, “Hey, I've gotta go, etiquette lessons in the dining room.” He stood and started heading to the door to his room.

“Be good, Alexander.” She advised, following him out and walking towards the parlor.

“I'll try.” He turned down the hall that lead to the dining room.

* * *

 “Wait, he just dumped it all out there?” Martha sounded bewildered.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, trying to downplay the immensity of the situation. “It's my fault, I asked what happened to his mom.”

“Why?”

“‘Cos his friends seemed hesitant to talk about it, but they also made it seem important to getting to know him.” John sighed.

“I told you not to get too attached to that one,” Martha pointed out, “now you've gotta deal with all his baggage.”

“Hey,” John frowned, “don't talk about him like that. _Everyone_ has something… heavy.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like to get him to reciprocate your feelings, you’re gonna have to unload all that past hurt.” She sighed. “I know you like him, but I just… I'm not sure. Be careful.”

“Martha, I'm the one who's supposed to be breaking hearts here, I'll be fine.” He intended it as a joke, but the reality of it outweighed any humor.

“Yeah, but Alexander seems like someone who would do whatever it takes to survive, he'll tear right through you if you let him.”

John looked away from Martha’s intense gaze. She was right. “Yeah.” He agreed.

“Hey, let's talk about something else,” she said, moving from her spot on the bed, “have you see the drawing Mary Eleanor did?”

“No, I haven't.” He was eager for the subject change, and for the opportunity to learn more about his youngest sibling.

“Here,” Martha went over to her dresser and shuffled stuff around before grabbing a paper, “there's Harry,” she pointed to the second shortest stick figure with a scribbling of dark hair, “that's herself,” the shortest one with a triangle body- John assumed it was meant to be a dress- and long stringy hair, “there's Jemmy,” John smiled at the medium stick figure with messily drawn curls, “there's me,” the second tallest also with a triangle body and hair similar to Mary Eleanor’s, “and there's you.”

John noticed then the difference between Mary Eleanor’s interpretation of him versus his other siblings; he was the only stick figure who wasn't smiling. He wasn't frowning either, but rather he had a flat expression.

“She's quite the budding artist.” He said, trying to ignore the difference.

“Takes after you.” Martha said with a soft smile. John felt his heart aching.

“You spend a lot of time with them, don't you?”

“Who? Mary Eleanor?”

“And Harry.”

“Yeah.” Martha confirmed. “...Why?”

“I haven't… I mean I talk to you daily, and Jemmy and I spend a lot of time together doing stuff…”

Martha patted his shoulder. “Hey, don't feel guilty.” That did little for him. “You've been busy with being the Prince of the country to spend time with your younger siblings.” She had a point, but it still didn't lessen his guilt.

“I don't even know what they like.” He sighed.

“Mary Eleanor likes flowers. She isn't really old enough to understand that there's different types of them, she just loves them. I have to stop her constantly from picking the flowers out of the gardens.” Her voice took on a serious tone, “She likes hearing about Mom.” Martha looked down at her hands. “She does look so much like her.”

“Yeah.”

“So do you.” Martha said, looking now at John’s face intently. “Harry and I take after Father more. Jemmy strikes a balance. But you and Mary Eleanor…” Martha drifted off. John nodded, knowing what she meant.

* * *

 “Sit up straighter.” Jacklyn snapped. Her voice had slowly gotten more and more stressed as the Selection progressed. Alexander couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for her. He'd stopped talking so much during her lessons, trying to be a good student for once.

He heard her tense sigh. “Please.” She said, much softer now. Everyone seemed to feel the change in her and acted accordingly. So they straightened their posture.

“Okay, today's lesson is on public speaking.” She said, opening her notebook. The Elite all followed suit, opening their notebooks in sync. Alexander almost laughed at it, but he bit it back. “First, you must stand straight. Posture is an important piece of body language. It could convey power,” she stood clear and straight up, “or nervousness.” She hunched over slightly. Alexander struggled to keep up, writing at the speed of light.

“Keep your voice clear. Project, don't be afraid of the microphone, it’s just there to help, but you have to project in the first place. If you let your voice carry down in pitch, it shows uncertainty. Never say anything like a question, even if it is a question. You don't want to seem unsure.”

Unsure, he thought. All he was at that moment was unsure. Nevertheless, the hurriedly wrote his notes and ignored the problems in the back of his head.


	7. Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Challenge & Hopeless & Let Them Hear You & Forgiveness (Can You Imagine?) & Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally getting some plot, look at me, being a writer. Kind of

“As a part of being an Elite, you must come up with some kind of benefit program, something that helps the country. For example, Queen Eleanor created a program that brought food to lower caste children, specifically orphans.”

Alexander averted his gaze from Jacklyn. He couldn't help but wonder; _where was this program when I was starving?_ But, he didn't say anything out loud.

“In two weeks, your programs will be pitched live on television for the nation to watch! Remember, I am always a resource for you if you need something for your project.” Jacklyn seemed strangely excited by this.

As soon as they were released- to brainstorm- Alexander found his way to Maria.

“I have no idea what to do.” He said immediately.

“Me neither.” She sighed. “It seems… pointless. For us girls, at least. And for others because only one of these ‘programs’ will come to fruition.”

“I doubt that even one will.” Alexander said pessimistically.

“What do you mean?” Maria looked at him with a genuine spark of confusion.

“I mean… Queen Eleanor’s program never helped me, or any of the kids around me who were in the same situation.” He paused. “I was only fifteen when I came here, dirt poor, no parents… and there were _tons_ of kids living just like me.” He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

“You were fifteen? You mean you weren't born here?”

Ah. He knew he'd said something out of line, something that exposed him. “No, I was, uh,” his words started to get quieter, “I was born in the Caribbean. Moved here after a hurricane.”

“That's perfect!” She exclaimed, suddenly picking up some of the scrap paper Jacklyn had provided.

“What?”

“Alex, have you ever heard the saying ‘you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day; you teach a man to go fishing, you feed him for a lifetime’?”

“Can't say I have.”

Maria sighed exaggeratedly. “Basically, giving food to people isn't really long-term help. But, teaching them how to grow or catch their own food is a lifetime change.”

“Okay, I get that. But I'm still not seeing where you're going with this.” He admitted.

She sighed again. “ _That’s_ my program. Something that helps people without food learn how to grow or catch it and sustain themselves.”

“Ooh,” he said, finally understanding, “wait, how'd you get that idea just from my upbringing?”

“Well…” she seemed unsure herself, “you said you were surrounded by kids like you, and it can be assumed that you had to learn how to survive. So, what if there was some way we could make that learning process easier and faster?”

He nodded, “That's great, Maria.” But suddenly she slumped, defeated. “What? What's wrong?”

“It'll never happen.”

“Huh?”

“My project. It'll never happen.” She crumpled up the paper on which she'd been writing ideas and flow charts and things of the like.

“Hey, hey!” Alexander swiped the notes from her hands before she could destroy them any further and started to smooth them out over the corner of the desk. “This,” he held out the now only slightly rumpled paper, “is brilliant. Do not throw away your shot at putting yourself on the map. Currently, most of the people watching this hardly know you. Let them hear you.”

* * *

"Are you okay?” Were the first words out of John’s mouth as he arrived on the roof where Alexander had told him to meet him after dinner.

“Yeah, I just… I’m sorry. For what I said about your mom and for dumping my life story on you like that-”

John cut him off by kissing him. Alexander was startled at first, but then melted into it and wrapped his arms around John’s neck.

“I take that as forgiveness?” He laughed breathlessly. John smiled.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna sit?” Alexander gestured to their table. He nodded and they walked over, sitting down. He watched Alexander for a moment, the way the setting sunlight landed on his face and the slight curl to his hair.

“You look like you've got something on your mind.” Alexander spoke after a long pause of silence.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Childhoods, in general.” John lied, grabbing at the next thing on his mind that was much less embarrassing.

“What was yours like?”

Though he knew the question was coming, he wasn't sure how to answer it. “My mom died when I was eight, Martha was three, Harry two, and Mary Eleanor just a few months old. From then on, it was just Father raising us. I think…” he paused, toying with the words, “I think the stress of it- four kids and a country- really wore him down. He never got past Mom’s death. If-” he cut himself off, rephrasing, “there's some details that I need you to promise never to speak of again.”

“I promise.” His sincerity was evident.

“He would hit me, whenever he got too stressed. I've got scars all up and down my back from when he’d whip me-” he stopped talking then, closing his eyes.

Alexander was dead silent. Just as John had felt when he’d dumped his own past on him, Alexander wasn't sure what to do with this information.

“John-”

“Don't.” He cut him off before he could even speak. John knew what he was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it. All he'd heard his whole life was _I’m sorry_ , but ‘sorry’ did nothing for him. In fact, he was quite tired of it.

So instead Alexander kissed him, gently as if he was fragile and could break at any moment- maybe he would.

He pulled away just a little bit. In a soft voice, so quiet he hoped maybe Alexander wouldn't even hear him, he whispered, “I love you.”

But Alexander did hear, and drew in a sharp breath. And let it out. And didn't say anything. They were so close, John could feel every breath Alexander took and vice versa. And they could feel the silence that settled heavily over them.


	8. Overload

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too Much & Too Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively; Martha Tries To Give Advice, John Takes It All Wrong.

The time had come for the families to leave.

Alexander choose not to tell any of the Schuyler sisters what had transpired, he didn't want to get lectured for hours and hours on end.

Instead, he said his ‘goodbye’s, ‘call you soon’s, and ‘miss you’s and let them leave ignorant to the storm brewing in his mind.

He hadn't said anything- _God, why didn't he say anything?_ \- he couldn't find the words in the moment. He still couldn't find them now. He sat in his bed, having shooed Mulligan and Lafayette out of his room for a bit, and thought.

The main question on his mind was, of course: _did_ he love John? And, _could_ he love him with all the responsibility that carries? Could he love _Prince_ John, not just John?

And if he found that he didn't, that he couldn't, what did that mean for them? He wished he could go back to his mindset from the beginning of the Selection- stay for a little while, enjoy the food and comforts, and then accept it when he was sent home. But now…

He couldn't say with certainty if he was in love, but he could say with absolutely certainty that he didn't want to be sent home- part of him said _not yet_ and part said _never_. He couldn't reconcile the two.

* * *

_They separated from the kiss. In a tone so soft and quiet, Alexander wasn't sure at first he'd heard him right, John whispered, “I love you.”_

_But he had heard him correctly. And he couldn't say anything. They were so close, Alexander could almost feel John’s words as physical weights on his mind. And they could both feel the silence that settled heavily over them._

_Alexander cleared his throat, loudly, shattering the moment as it was._

_“It’s getting late.” He said bluntly._

_“Yeah, it is.” John agreed hesitantly. Maybe Alexander could pull off that he hadn't heard him, but he knew he tensed up when it was said._

_“We should head inside.”_

* * *

He rolled over in the bed, pulling the covers around his face and frowning deeply as he recalled the memory.

He tried to imagine life if- _when_ \- he was sent home. He'd be a Three from then on, he'd watch John pick some other Elite and marry him, he'd live in a nice house, he'd marry somebody someday, and live happily. Maybe.

And if he stayed- he'd be royalty. The totality and finality of that was not lost on him, he knew how much it meant to be in that position. But he was clumsy, ungraceful, unmannered, and a Six. He wasn't fit for the position. It wasn't a question in his mind if he was or wasn't. He just wasn't.

 _Well,_ he thought bitterly, _at least I'm sure of something._

* * *

"You _what_?”

“I-”

“No no no, I heard you. I'm just trying to figure out how you went from our conversation yesterday to _that_.” Martha was just below yelling.

“I don't know.” John admitted, sounding on the verge of crying.

“Goddammit, I can't be mad at you when you're sad,” she sighed, not sounding all that upset about it, and wrapping her arms around him, “he didn't… say it back?”

“No.” He sounded defeated. “You were right.”

“In any other situation, I’d love hearing that,” Martha tried to joke, “but right now… I don't like being right.” She held him tighter.

“What should I do?”

She thought for a moment, “Maybe try pursuing the others more? Get your mind off of him.”

* * *

John pushed Kinloch against the door roughly, connecting their mouths in a fiery kiss. Kinloch made a slight startled noise, but didn't resist. He started to slide a hand over John’s chest, tracing the muscles just underneath his suit.

“Why do you wear so many layers?” Kinloch complained, pulling on the suit jacket.

“Appearances,” John said inarticulately, his attention elsewhere. He let Kinloch slide the jacket off his shoulders and it fell onto the floor of Kinloch’s room. He recklessly slid a hand up Kinloch’s shirt, feeling his skin, hot and tense.

He quickly reached over and turned the lock on Kinloch’s door.

Kinloch started fumbling with the buttons of John’s white button-down. They both stumbled a few steps back and over and flopped onto the bed, the covers cushioning the fall.

At that point, Kinloch was almost ripping at the buttons- he seemed to be struggling. Eventually, though, he had it opened, and slid it over John’s shoulders just like he'd down with the jacket. As he ran his hands over John’s bare chest, John felt something in his heart constrict. He pulled away regretfully.

“We-” he was breathless, “-we shouldn't-”

“You're right.” Kinloch exhaled heavily, also trying to catch his breath.

The sight of him beneath John- his hair ruffled and lips swollen and looking totally debauched- almost made John change his mind, but he knew he shouldn't.

He got up carefully, retrieving his button down and starting to put it on, hurriedly pushing the buttons through the loops. Kinloch perched up in his elbows and watched, clearly checking him out.

“I'll see you later?” Kinloch asked, watching him getting redressed- he supposed he must look pretty debauched as well.

“Yeah, yeah I'll send for you.” John said with a tight smile, the realization of what had almost transpired finally hitting him. He threw his suit jacket on and turned for the door. He could practically feel Kinloch’s gaze following him as he went.

And, it was just his luck that he'd bump into- literally- Alexander not two steps away from Kinloch’s door.

“Oh,” Alexander gave him a once over, but not in a checking-you-out way. Despite all of his fussing before leaving Kinloch’s room, he still looked like a mess, and being that he was only a few steps away from the door, it wasn't hard to understand what he was doing.

“Alexander-”

But Alexander ducked past him, headed in the opposite direction, clearly unsure of what he had even come that way in the first place for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm eager to hear what you guys have to say in the comments today ^_^


	9. Kinloch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comfort & Examination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspiration and motivation? in MY mind? (It's more likely than you think)

By the time he'd looped back to his room, he was definitely crying. He was, for once, grateful for the presence of Mulligan and Lafayette, who were there to catch him. Metaphorically and physically.

“ _Mon ami_ ,” Lafayette exclaimed, his worry evident, “what's wrong?”

“I can't stay here anymore.” He said, not really answering Lafayette’s question, and not really sure where the words had even come from in the first place.

“What? Why? Mister Alexander-” Mulligan attempted to intervene.

“I can't- I can't stay. I just- can't.” He repeated himself, unable to think of anything other than: _I have to leave._

“What happened?” Lafayette finally asked.

“I-” he hiccuped, “John told me he loved me,” they both gasped, but were clearly still confused- after all, why would that make Alexander want to leave?- “but I just saw him-” another hiccup, “leaving Kinloch’s room- looking- looking,” he wasn't sure what the word was he wanted to use, “well… like he'd just had sex.” He finished with a phrase instead of a word- he couldn't find a single word that covered his appearance, stumbling out of Kinloch’s room.

In a matter of a split second, Lafayette was holding him, tightly. Mulligan stood slightly off to the side, looking as scandalized as Lafayette, but not hiding it as well.

“Did he say anything?”

“I didn't give him the chance- I didn't- I don't- want to hear excuses.” His tone shifted towards anger, ever so slightly. “I can't _believe_ he'd-” _tell me his life story and then say he loved me and then do that._ Alexander couldn't say the words out loud, but he still heard them echo in his mind.

A gentle but clear knock came through the door. Lafayette ushered Alexander into the bathroom with Mulligan to comfort him and then rushed to answer the door.

A very worried looking, rumpled Prince stood in the doorway. “Your Highness.” Lafayette was trying to keep his voice level, Alexander could tell even from afar.

“Is Alexander here?”

“No, I believe he went for some air outside.” Lafayette lied smoothly. Alexander thanked every god that ever existed for Lafayette’s existence. He was so convincing, even Alexander would've been fooled if he didn't know the truth.

“Okay. Thank you.” The door clicked shut and Lafayette rushed back to Alexander’s side.

“You're not leaving.” Lafayette said with finality. “You can't, not yet. You're stronger than that.”

Was he? Was he really strong enough to handle being thrown into a crisis over a _lie?_ That's all it could have been, a lie. And it sent him in a spiral. No, he wasn't strong enough for that.

“You,” Lafayette began again, “are going to stay. At least until you present your program, show the world how amazing you are, then maybe I'll let you go.” He cracked a smile, which Alexander returned.

* * *

The next day, while all the Elite were in the parlour, Alexander decided he had to get to know Kinloch better. Keep your enemies close, or… something like that. To be truthful, he wasn't sure if Kinloch really was his ‘enemy,’ but nonetheless.

“Hello, Mister Kinloch.” Alexander tried to seem as unthreatening as possible, simply introducing himself. Kinloch seemed startled at his approach, but he was welcoming.

“Mister Alexander, to what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice was warm, and surprisingly genuine.

“Well, I was thinking… there's so few of us left, and I hardly know some of you. So…” he made a lame gesture with his hand, using an excuse he'd rehearsed just a few seconds before approaching.

“Oh, well, that's fair.” Kinloch turned, angling just slightly away from his conversation with Mister John André and Miss Peggy Shippen, opening the area for Alexander to slide himself into the conversational space.

So he did, if a bit awkwardly, but he was quickly accepted into the fold. If he was of a higher caste, he'd probably have made a smoother entrance into the conversation, but it didn't matter in the end.

“Mister Alexander!” Miss Peggy smiled the perfect teacher smile- he forgot sometimes she was a Three, and Threes were the educators. She carried the air of one, too.

“Hello!” He smiled back, trying to find his place between a Two, Three, and Four. “How are you?”

While trying to listen to Peggy’s rambling- and respond on the right cues- he investigated Kinloch. He was looking for… for _something_ , he wasn't sure what, though, and that made the process even harder.

Maybe he was looking for some definite sign that what it looked like had happened had really happened, maybe he was misreading the situation they didn't have sex. But there was no mistaking the kiss-bruised lips John wore as he walked out.

Maybe he was looking for something to hate about him. Something he could use to make Kinloch his enemy, and thusly remove him from the grey area he currently occupied. He wasn't an enemy, he couldn’t be if Alexander was removing himself from the competition altogether. But he wasn't a friend either, he didn't know Kinloch well enough to consider him as such.

Maybe he was looking for something that made him so much more desirable than he. Something would make John want Kinloch more than Alexander. A sign that maybe Kinloch was able to say for certain that, yes, he did love John, and he knew for sure that he was ready to be royalty. Something that made Kinloch a better- or maybe safer- choice than him.

 _No_ , he told himself, _you don't care about that._ But he did. He couldn't figure out what was wrong with him and right with Kinloch.

He knew it was going to bother him, it would probably bother him even after he'd left. Where was his fault in comparison to Kinloch. Was it his caste? His appearance? His personality?

Alexander still wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for in Kinloch or if he'd found it in the end, but what he did find was that he couldn't hate Kinloch, no matter how much he wanted to.


	10. Contractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're Not (Talk) & You Can't (Rest)

“We need to talk.”

“I don't want to hear your damn excuses.” Alexander snapped. John had the audacity to stop him in the hallway, and he would have been lying if he said it didn't make him just a little bit mad.

“I’m not-” he stopped, let out a breath, “please, Alexander.”

He felt his anger crumble. Along with it went his resolve. “Fine. But we're not going to the roof.” Alexander said sharply, a tiny bit of anger still tinting his words. He'd felt the roof was sacred to them somehow, and it wasn't the place to have _this_ conversation.

“We could go to the ground gardens…?” John asked tentatively.

“Sure.” Alexander said in a dry tone, not really caring as long as it wasn't the rooftop gardens. They walked in tense silence to a spot where they could sit in the ground gardens.

“I meant what I said.” John spoke almost immediately, rushing the words out.

“And how am I supposed to believe that?” Alexander said, unable to stop the anger, previously staved off, from rising back up. He knew anger wouldn't help the situation, he knew it would only shut down all communication, but still it climbed it's way up his throat and colored his tone. “You probably couldn't even repeat it- because it was a heat of the moment thing and you didn't really mean it.” He could see the hurt flash in John’s eyes, if only for a split second. Part of him regretted hurting him, but the other part whispered in his ear like the devil on his shoulder _it's only fair_. He tried to shrug the devil off.

“I don't want to say it because-” he cut himself off as his volume was rising, and he quickly found his strictly taught manners, “-it seemed to scare you.”

“Well,” Alexander started, not bothering to watch his volume as carefully as John did, “maybe it did, in the moment. But then it just had me all- all _confused_. And for what? So I could find you after hooking up with Kinloch?” The thought registered vaguely in his mind that other people may be able to hear him. He was dimly aware that his volume was steadily rising, possibly drawing attention.

“No- no, no that wasn't what-” he stopped again, and Alexander began to grow frustrated with his sudden and rushed responses and then the ensuing pauses, “-I was terrified after that night. Martha has been warning me since the very beginning to not get attached to you- she thinks you're a flight risk, and, Hell, maybe you are- so I went to her. She told me what she's been saying this whole time- focus on the other options.” Alexander tried not to let it show how much it hurt to hear that. He knew how much John valued Martha’s input as his sister so to hear that she never really trusted him- and in fact told John to stay away from him- really stung.

“So you went and slept with Kinloch?” He deflected. The question was sharp, angled to hit John right in the heart.

“No, no I- okay kind of, but it's more complicated than that, I swear,” Alexander had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, “I did go to him with the _intention_ of… having sex,” he admitted, “but we didn't.”

“Yeah, that's really comforting.” He said sarcastically, using it as a defense mechanism and a way to hide that it was slightly comforting.

“You can be so infuriating-” all manners were gone, abandoned somewhere in a calmer conversation, “-if you'd just talk more often-”

“-Oh and you're Mister ‘Talks About His Feelings’-” Their words started to overlap. They were rapidly cutting each other off, neither one really listening to the other.

“-I'm better than you are, at least I don't make my feelings a goddamn puzzle for others to solve-”

“-We’re _not_ the same, John Laurens.” Alexander’s tone had shifted so much it stunned John into silence. “Don't you _dare_ start comparing the way we've handled our lives.” He stood suddenly, shooting up from his place, walking away.

“For the record, I’m leaving after our beneficiary programs are presented. One last hurrah.” And he walked back into the Palace, making a beeline for his room. He shut and locked the door before he let himself cry again.

* * *

“You can't force him to stay, Jack.” Martha said quietly. She was sitting with him on his bed, rubbing circles into his back as an attempt to comfort him.

“I know.” He sighed, his whole body slumping. “And I don't want to, but… you weren't there, Martha, the way he suddenly just changed tone-” he shook his head, trying to shake the memory and failing miserably. “I want to take it all back.”

“You can't.” She was trying to be gentle, he could tell, but her usual blunt honesty couldn't be held back. He appreciated it, though, sometimes she was the voice of reason he needed.

He heaved a huge breath, feeling the urge to cry rising in his throat. He reached out for Martha, who readily held him.

“You know,” Martha started with a slight tone of humor, “when I said ‘pursue the others’ I didn't mean ‘go sleep with one of them.’”

John huffed what might have been a laugh. “I'm sure you didn't.”

“You should really listen to me closer and more often.” She laughed, but it was humorless.

John laughed humorlessly too. “I should've listen to you from the start. You were so right about him… I still remember what you said, ya know? ‘Don't go falling for someone who might not want you in the end.’ Too late.”

“Jack…” Martha began, but trailed off, unsure of where she was going with her sentence.

“I think I'm going to sleep. I'm so tired…” He sighed, flopping back onto his pillow.

“Yeah, you need some rest.” She agreed. “Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight, Martha.”


	11. Going Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hypothetical & Tell-All & Bang & Father-Son "Bonding"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been awhile since there's been a good Alex/Maria scene, so here it is. Plus some laurens family angst

“Alexander?” Maria waved a hand in front of Alexander’s face. He was visibly spaced out. He jolted back to reality.

“Hm? What?” He blinked a few times, trying to stabilize his blurry vision.

“Are you okay?” She asked, genuinely concerned. She leaned forward slightly to get a better look at him. He couldn't imagine he looked all that well.

“Yeah… yeah, I'm fine.” He lied. It was obvious she didn't believe him, though, and he wasn't that convincing in the first place.

“Tell me the truth.” She said sternly, a motherly tone- not unlike Eliza’s- starting to show through.

“I-” he stopped and rephrased quite purposefully, “how would you feel if I… left.” He posed the question as if it was hypothetical, knowing it wasn't truly hypothetical.

“What?” She sounded shocked, her face contorting to show it. “Why would you do that?”

“I'm- I'm not saying that I am. Just… hypothetically.” He shrugged, trying to make it seem like a more casual question.

“I'd be really upset. And confused, because from what I can tell, you're the favorite. So, why would you leave?”

“Um,” he stuttered, “well,”

“No,” Maria said, gasping. “You really are leaving?”

“Yes.” He rushed the affirmation, afraid of losing his nerve. “Because… it's so complicated, Maria, but… I'm leaving on my own terms. I'm not being sent home.”

“Alexander-”

“Please don't tell me I'm making a mistake. I know what I'm doing. I'm going to present my program- whatever that will be- and then I'm leaving.” He said with conviction.

“I just wish you'd tell me why.”

“Some… stuff happened with John… I can't stay.” He summarized ineloquently.

“Stuff?” Maria frowned, “If he hurt you, so help me God-”

“No.” He lied more convincingly this time. “No… I'll tell you what happened, but… not here,” he looked around the parlour at all the people there, “either one of our rooms.”

“Mine.” Maria said immediately. “Let's go.” She grabbed his hand in a hurry, walking out of the parlour. She waved to the other Elite who gave them a strange look for a moment.

She opened the door to her room and greeted her maids. “Ladies, if you would allow us a moment of privacy?” She requested. Alexander noted with fondness how politely Maria addressed her maids.

They nodded and rushed out, one of them stopped and said, “I'll be right outside the door, if you need me.” Maria nodded.

“Okay. Spill.” Maria sat down on her bed and patted the spot next to her. Alexander hesitantly joined her.

“Uh… well, a few nights ago, he stupidly told me he loved me- he didn't mean it, though, I know he didn't. But for awhile I was really… conflicted about it. Then I saw him stumbling out of Kinloch’s room looking very…” he raised his eyebrows suggestively, Maria nodded, “we talked, I yelled… and that's about it.”

“Why are you leaving after the programs are shown? You don’t even know what yours is going to be.”

“Uh,” admittedly, he hadn't thought of that, “Lafayette- one of my butlers- told me I had to stay because I'm ‘stronger than that’ and that I need to get my voice out there- kinda like what I told you, I guess.”

“We have to start brainstorming, immediately.” Maria quickly got off her bed.

“What?” He wasn't following her train of thought.

“You're going out with a bang.”

* * *

“Jack.”

“Yessir?” John responded as quickly as possible to his father’s command. They had just finished a meeting with the advisors to discuss national issues, and John was on his way out until his father called him back.

“You've been lax on your duties for the last few days. What's wrong, son?” John reminded himself not to flinch when he called him ‘son’. Or to flinch when his father went to pat his shoulder. Or when he took a step closer, a fighting stance in John’s paranoid mind.

“Um, nothing, uh…” he took a step back, the conversation felt threatening. He felt like he was nine again, so shocked and scared, watching as his father reached down to him, not sure what for in that moment but it soon became clear-

“The Selection getting stressful?” John had to hold in a sigh of relief so it didn't show just how scared he was.

 _What a perfectly vague way to cover how I feel,_ John thought. “Yes.”

“It is quite nerve wracking.” His father nodded.

“How did you know? With Mom, I mean.” He suddenly found himself asking. He wasn't sure what answer he was looking for or what significance it would have to him, but he had the abrupt need to know.

“Ah,” his father frowned, “well she caught my eye from the moment she walked in.” John felt a flash of recognition, he'd felt the same with- Kinloch. _Just_ Kinloch, he told himself. He was only partially lying, he knew that much, but no matter how many times he repeated it to himself, it didn't stick.

“She was beautiful. Brown skin, curly hair- I’m getting off topic. She was definitely my intellectual equal. I really knew for sure when we’d had our first fight.” John wondered what that meant for him. “She told me off for being… nevermind… but she called me out.”

John noticed the way his father used _‘nevermind’_ to stop himself from saying something he didn't want to disclose. Maybe John should try that sometime, though he felt that would only infuriate _certain people_...

He almost regretted asking anything about his mom, it was a touchy subject with his father. But still, he was sure he could find some wisdom in his father’s words.

His father took another step, and John took one back. Mentioning his mother may have set his father off- God knows he's been set off by less- and yet, his father then walked out.

John finally let a sigh of relief escape his lips. He walked out shortly after his father and headed to his room.


	12. Hearing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crazy=Genius & Somehow Sane & Presentations (Shock Value)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brownie points to anyone who spots the trash reference in the summary of this chapter

“This is amazing,” Maria smiled at the presentation, “absolutely brilliant. You're gonna rock the entire country.”

“Thanks, Maria.” Alexander reorganized the papers that held their notes. “I couldn't have come up with this without you,” he admitted, “it's a bit too crazy for me.”

“Hey!” Maria whacked Alexander lightly on the arm. “What are you implying?”

“That you're batshit insane.” He said with a sly smile. “And a goddamn genius.” He added as an afterthought.

“The two go hand-in-hand.” Maria nodded, not disagreeing. “But this is partially your idea, too.” She pointed out.

“It's a crazy thought I've had once, maybe twice, in my entire life. I've never thought to _act_ on it.” He said exasperatedly.

“But now’s your chance!” She rooted. “TV is the largest platform you're ever going to get! And,” she continued, as if Alexander didn't seem convinced enough yet, “it doesn't matter if you piss people off. You're leaving, so you can say whatever you want.”

“Yeah.” Alexander said, not yet having come to terms with the fact that he was actually leaving.

"Let's go down to the parlour and see what the others are up to."

* * *

“Have you come up with your idea yet?” Sybil asked over her papers.

“Yeah, Alexander helped with mine so I helped with his.” Maria answered vaguely.

“What're you guys doing? I'm still working with almost nothing.” She admitted.

“Well…” Maria hesitated, “mine is a program that'll teach lower caste families how to easily farm and gather food.”

“That sounds amazing, Maria!” Sybil smiled brightly and put a hand over top of Maria’s. Alexander bit back a smirk as her face flushed. “And yours, Alexander?”

“Um,” he tried to come up with an appropriate excuse, “it's a surprise.”

“Ooh,” Sybil cooed, “that'll be interesting.” Alexander tried to nod as if what he was going to do was somehow sane.

* * *

About a week later, it was time for their philanthropy projects to be presented. The Elite sat in chairs slightly off to the side of the stage. Across from them, the royal family sat, both the King and Prince looking aloof while the Princess handled the younger children.

Alexander sat down next to Maria and Sybil sat down next to him. Sybil reached out and grabbed Alexander’s hand very swiftly and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled and reached for Maria’s hand to do the same. For a moment, they were all connected, feeling the comfort of each other's presence. And then they released.

“Okay,” Jacklyn came over to them, looking stressed as usual, “we will go in order of your seating.”

Alexander glanced down the row of seats. That meant that Sybil was last, and she had to go after _him_. As much as he didn't want to do that to her, it was too late to switch chairs and he didn't want to leave either of his friends’ sides.

“We are live in three… two… one.” The person behind the camera pointed to the host, George again.

“Welcome!” He said in his powerful, game-show host voice. “Today we see what the wonderful Elite have cooked up for us as beneficiary programs to help all of our people. First up, we have Mister Aaron Burr!”

Alexander had trouble following what Aaron was trying to get across, he didn't seem to have one coherent point. Even after Aaron was done, it seemed most people weren't completely sure what he’d meant.

And then it was John André, who was a bit empty in the head. At least, though, his presentation had a point, if it was a bit misguided. His proposal was a means to fight against the rebels in the country- those who opposed the monarchy. But, he talked as if it wasn't already something the government had their eyes on, and it made him seem quite unintelligent.

Catherine Livingston was next. She talked about reforming the school system, which made sense for her. She was a Three and came from a family of educators.

Thomas Jefferson proposed a minimum wage payment scaled to one’s caste, which was surprising at first. However, when he got into the logistics of it, it turned out that to earn this minimum wage, one would have to pay for a certain education.

Kinloch’s program centered around the environment. He pledged to save certain endangered species, and had it perfectly laid out as to how he was going to do that. It was brilliant.

Maria was shaking as she walked up to the center of the stage to pitch her proposal, but she got through it, and the applause was well-earned.

Alexander took a deep breath and approached center stage with his posters and charts Maria had helped organize.

“My fellow citizens,” he began, making sure his voice was strong and he didn't sound unsure, “I'm sure everyone here loves our country,” a few hoots of agreement followed that statement, “but it is undeniable that is has issues.

“One of the major issues is the suffering of the lower castes. The difference between an Eight and a Two is immense,” he pulled the cover poster off and showed a visual chart of the income differences, “this gap continues to divide us as a people,” he pulled down another poster with a chart, “this chart shows the results of a survey done that shows people of lower castes tend to feel less like they are actually a part of our country.” He gave that fact a moment to settle in.

“So, I propose that we eliminate the castes.” He allowed more than a moment for the gasps to subside.

He then cited more surveys and studies showing the gaps between castes and how it divided the country. “So, to truly become a united country again, we must begin to remove these labels.

“It won't be easy,” he admitted, “but we would start by removing the lowest caste, the Eights, and moving them up to Sevens.” He moved his posters, “The difference here is slight, so this won't be a difficult transition. Once the dust has settled from that endeavor,” he flipped another card, “we move the Sevens up to Sixes. This one will be a little more difficult, but this where we can begin meeting in the middle. The Twos are lowered to Threes, and the excess funds there will go towards moving the Sevens to Sixes. Then Threes down to Fours, Sixes up to Fives, and we meet in the middle.” He smiled at the stunned crowd.

“Thank you for your time.” He bowed slightly and walked off, ignoring the stunned faces of the other Elite- except for Maria, who had heard him rehearse the project a million times by now.

“Jesus, Alexander,” Sybil breathed as she slid past him and went to present her project.


	13. Dealing With Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath & Cleaning Up

“Jack,” his father spoke as soon as they were out of the filming area, “send him home _immediately_. I will not have this kind of- this kind of-” he seemed to struggle to find the right word, “- _mockery_ of my country.”

“Yessir.” John responded robotically, knowing Alexander was leaving anyway. He'd hoped, though, he could've gotten another chance to talk to him, maybe convince him to stay. But now he understood why Alexander had said he was leaving after the presentations. He knew what he was going to say was controversial and would turn public opinion against him. Even if he could make Alexander want to stay, after that display, he had to go.

“Do this, or there _will_ be consequences.” His father said in a stern voice. He knew what ‘consequences’ meant, and he had the sudden thought that if that was the only consequence, he'd take it if he could make Alexander stay. Hell, he'd been taking it his whole life with no reason, so this was no different.

* * *

The last thing Alexander had been expecting when he walked into his room was the excited shouting of Lafayette.

“Mister Alexander!” Lafayette cried out happily. “That was brilliant, _mon dieu_ , the look on the King’s face- priceless! Where on Earth did you come up with such a radical idea?”

“Honestly? Maria. I mean- I think everyone of the lower castes have thought about something like that, but never in detail or seriously- but she sparked something in me.”

“Send her all my thanks, you've made such a stir amongst the people!” Lafayette smiled.

“Yes… are my bags packed?” He redirected the conversation.

“Oh… no, sir.” Mulligan said from behind Lafayette. “The Prince called for you… I thought you might not be actually leaving…” He trailed off. “Just in case, though, we are ready to pack, but…”

“The Prince called for me?” He felt stunned. “Why?”

“I don't know, he didn't say…”

“Shit… shit, shit, do you have something nice for me to wear?” Alexander became frantic.

“Uh, yes…?” Lafayette swiftly moved to the dresser.

* * *

“John.” Alexander felt breathless, having been spun quickly into his outfit.

“Alexander.” John by contrast sounded stern. “I… am under strict instruction to send you home…”

“Oh,” Alexander breathed out, “well, I know why… and I meant to leave anyway-”

“I don't want you to leave.” John admitted abruptly. “I don't want to send you home and I don't want you to go on your own. I can't- I _won't_ stop you if you want to… but…”

Alexander looked away. He had felt so sure of leaving just a week ago, but now…

“I'm sorry. For what I said- it was out of line. I was angry…”

“That doesn't really explain the thing with Kinloch.” Alexander pointed out.

“I needed to not think.” John said almost immediately. “Wouldn't you have wanted to given the situation? It was stupid, not the right way to go about it, but… I'm sorry.”

“You're only sorry you got caught.” Alexander said, his anger starting to resurface.

John hung his head for a moment. “I suppose that's true. I wouldn't have told you about it if you hadn't seen me…”

“At least you're honest.” Alexander spoke with a tiny bit less anger.

“Alexander-”

“No. You've said enough. Now it's my turn.” John almost looked startled by the sudden change. “I'm tired of this hot and cold- I'm sure you are too.” He added when he saw John open his mouth. “And- and I don't know if I want to leave anymore. But… after what happened on _live television_ , I don't think I can.”

“My father would… pose some resistance, but I'm willing to fight him on this.”

“John, no. No you aren't getting- not for this, it's not worth it.” Alexander had a sudden strike of fear for John.

“You're worth it.” Now it was Alexander’s turn to be stunned into silence. “Now… I need to know, do you want to stay?”

Alexander bit his lip. “Yes.” He admitted.

“Okay. Then let me handle the rest.”

* * *

It wasn't until two hours later- eleven o’clock at night- that John returned, knocking on Alexander’s door. Alexander hadn't been able to sleep anyway, and he jumped to the door.

“John.”

“Alexander.” He stumbled into the room, surprised to see his butlers still there, a card game set up at a table and a seemingly empty chair where Alexander probably had been. “Um…” he winced, unsure of how to ask politely for privacy without raising suspicion.

“Are you okay?” Alexander put his hand on John’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. “Sorry, sorry.” He said, quickly removing his hand.

“Are either of you good at first aid, perhaps?” He asked before collapsing onto the bed.

“John!” Alexander called out in shock.

“I got him, I got him.” Mulligan came swooping in, lift John slightly. “What's wrong?”

“Back… my back.” John managed. “Shit…”

“I have to take your shirt off, is that okay?”

“Whatever you gotta do.” His normal precisely spoken tone was gone, and that worried Alexander more than he'd care to admit.

Mulligan started at first trying to regularly remove his shirt- layers of shirts, that is- but eventually he had to give up and instead went over to the dresser and retrieved the first aid kit. He opened it and quickly retrieved the scissors. Slowly, he cut away the layers of fabric, removing the pieces of cloth gently.

“I need you to roll over a bit for me…” Mulligan said quietly, helping John to lay flat on his stomach. There were still bleeding welts as well as older looking scars. Lafayette looked away.

“This is going to sting.” Mulligan warned before applying a disinfectant. John let out a slow hiss through his teeth.

“Shit.” He mumbled. The main must've made him suddenly come back to himself, he pushed himself up slightly to sit. “None of this leaves this room.” He said.

“Of course, your Highness.” Mulligan said reluctantly before beginning to clean and wrap the wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have ever read the Selection, you'll know this is different from what happened in the book, but I've pretty much cut the rebel plot line anyway (aside from the mention of them last chapter) so I worked with what I had. I think it went pretty fine. Plus, there will probably only be one more chapter to this part before the final one begins, so this was quicker anyway.
> 
> So yeah. One more chapter, y'all.


	14. Not Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staying

“John,” Alexander said quietly, “are you okay?”

“Let's go to the roof.” John said in place of an answer. It was clear that he didn't want to be here- in the room with Alexander's butlers- anymore.

“Can you walk?” He asked worriedly.

“Yes, yes. Let's go.” He insisted, pushing himself to his feet and taking Alexander’s arm.

The whole way up to the roof, Alexander had to somewhat hold onto John tightly to help him walk.

“You're staying.” John mumbled, his words slightly slurred.

“What?” Alexander was stunned.

“You are staying. My father has no say in the Selection process, it's not his future spouse.” His voice was raspy but firm. “It's my choice.”

“John.” Alexander started.

“I want you to stay, you want to stay, you're not going anywhere.” He said concisely. “We would have to… _fix_ ,” he stressed the word and tipped his head to the side slightly, “your reputation with some of the population, but… you're still in the running.” He sighed. “If anything, you've endeared yourself to the lower castes, you're like a martyr, but the upper castes… let's just say they're out for blood, and it's only been,” he glanced at his watch, “four hours since the broadcast.”

“People don't like their power being threatened.” Alexander looked away, unsure of how to feel. On one hand, he felt what he'd done was something that was a long time coming, something the lower castes have been thinking and feeling for a very very long time. On the other, he'd almost entirely ruined his chances at ever being a popular choice, and that was all he had going for him.

“No,” John seemed bothered by his statement, “they don't.” He didn't disagree, but he didn't seem to agree much either.

“I wouldn't expect you to understand.” Alexander said.

“What's that supposed to mean?” John bristled.

“You're in the ultimate position of power- well, your father is, but the point stands- you can't see it from the perspective of those not in power.” He pointed out, and John couldn't deny it.

“I suppose… but you couldn't see it from mine, either.”

“Yes.” Alexander relented. “That doesn't change the public opinion of me.”

“No, it doesn't… Alexander, I hate to ask this of you, but you need to bite your tongue from here on out. My father is already furious that I'm not sending you home. He already didn't like you- not in the way my sister did, a much… angrier way- so this was really just a reason he can actually admit to for wanting you to leave. He wouldn't say it, but he hated you for being a Six.”

“That's a popular opinion.” Alexander sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I have two close friends, and outside of that I'm an outcast amongst the Elite.” He shrugged. John put a hand over Alexander’s.

“You're not your number. You've proven that the numbers don't work anyway.”

Alexander smiled sadly. “So, where do we go from here?”

“We have to make you a public favorite again.”

* * *

“Mister Alexander?” Lafayette asked tentatively when he returned to his room. “We, ah, packed up your things…”

“No need,” he waved a hand, “I'm staying.”

“Oh! Fantastic! I had no doubt!” Lafayette shouted. “We always knew you'd be the winner.”

“Don't be so sure yet, we've got a long way to go before that.” Alexander muttered.

“What do you mean?” Lafayette frowned.

“Well, we have to fix my image after the stunt I pulled.”

“Stunt? _Pardonne-moi,_ perhaps something is getting lost in translation. What I saw wasn't a _stunt_ it was a _statement_.”

“Nothing's lost in translation here, it was… it was something, but it lowered the way the upper castes- the ones with influence- think of me. As if they didn't already dislike me.”

“Mister Alexander-”

“So we need to work on my image.” Alexander cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I need you guys to make clothes that make me look unassuming and innocent."

* * *

“Alexander!” Maria cried out as Alexander walked into the parlour the day after the broadcast. “Aren't you leaving…?”

“As it turns out, no.” He opened his arms as a shrug, but Maria took the opportunity and hugged him tightly.

“Am I hearing this right?” Kinloch said with a smile as he approached. Maria released him. “You aren't leaving?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” Kinloch said with such a genuine tone it surprised Alexander. “I think this whole process could use someone like you to shake things up a bit.” Alexander breathed a laugh, _shake things up_. That was definitely something he had done.

He looked at Maria, who was biting her lip so hard it looked like it might bleed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just… I feel guilty. It was my idea.” She said sadly.

“No, no, please don't. We were both so sure that I was leaving- crazy was what I needed.” He pulled her back into a hug and held her tightly. “I'm still here, aren't I?”

“Yeah… yeah you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit short compared to the others, but when you hit an ending, you can't keep going.
> 
> See y'all in the final part! <3


End file.
